


Just the Way You Make Me Feel

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: First Time, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: Tag to 4x02: Patrick and David finally get some alone time in Stevie's apartment.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 322





	Just the Way You Make Me Feel

“But,” says Patrick.

David looks at him, feeling lit up and mischievous. “Mmhmm?”

“Given that we only have the apartment for one night . . . “

David nods. “Mmm.”

“Maybe it’s best if we lock that box back up for now.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” David says, reaching for him, kissing him, trying to fall into the moment completely, but, “You know what? We didn’t even get into your history.”

“Lock it up, David,” Patrick says.

David laughs. “Okay.” He’s still laughing as he kisses him, loves that he can feel Patrick’s answering smile. He cups Patrick’s face. “I can’t wait to touch you,” he says, and he feels Patrick shiver. This is going to be delightful. “What do you want?”

“To get my hands on you,” Patrick says without a second’s hesitation. It makes something bright and hot flare low in David’s belly.

“100% on board with _that_ idea,” he says. “Let me put this another way. Anything you don’t want to do?” 

Patrick blinks. “That provides a lot of scope for the imagination.”

“And how’s your imagination been doing lately?” David asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well. It’s been doing very, very well,” Patrick says, leaning in to kiss David again.

David hums, and walks his fingers up Patrick’s thighs. “You’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

“David, the chance that I’m not going to like what you do are . . . scarily minimal.”

David shakes his head a little. “Promise me.” He wants this to be so good for him.

Patrick nods, looking almost sheepish. “I promise.”

David kisses him again and relishes the way Patrick leans into it. “Mmmmmm. We need to be wearing less,” he murmurs, and pulls away to stand up. He pulls his sweater off and throws it on the floor, reconsiders, then picks it up and folds it. He peels off the black tee he’s wearing underneath and leaves that on the rug. It’s only then that he realizes Patrick hasn’t moved. “What?” he asks, because Patrick’s staring at him.

Patrick shakes his head. “Nothing.”

David narrows his eyes, watches Patrick’s gaze skate up and down his torso. He’s been looked at a lot in his life with varying degrees of appraisal, but is different. It’s nerve wrecking – Patrick’s looking so that he can know him, understand him, relish him, and that’s so, so new. David swallows, reaches for nonchalance, deliberately licks his lips and shifts his weight to one hip, and smiles as Patrick’s eyes widen. “You,” he says, pushing away all those feelings and closing the gap between he and Patrick, “are lolly-gagging.” He hooks his fingers under the hem of Patrick’s pale blue sweater and raises an eyebrow in question. Patrick lifts his arms, and his repeat of, “Lolly-gagging?” is muffled as David pulls the sweater off.

“Mmmhmm. Taking in the scenery,” David says, pausing as Patrick wraps his hands around the back of David’s thighs and pulls him closer. “Oh.” This he likes.

Patrick lets his head fall forward, his forehead touching David’s belly, and just breathes for a second. David brings his hands up to play with Patrick’s hair, soothing him, petting him, until Patrick shifts just a little and places a kiss right above David’s belly button. David lets out a sudden, sharp breath, feeling that kiss in all kinds of places, and smiles when Patrick looks up. “If you could . . . do that again . . .” David offers, and he can hear how the timbre of his voice has changed.

Patrick runs his hands up the back of David’s thighs, cups his ass and kisses his stomach again, above and below his belly button, lips trailing lightly downward until they come to the waistband of David’s jeans.

“You,” says David, and looks briefly heavenward at the fact that his voice just cracked, Jesus, is he twelve, “are still – with the t-shirt . . .”

Patrick pulls off the shirt and stands up, leans in and kisses David again, his chest pressed right up against David’s, and David feels himself running hot and cold as Patrick steadies himself with his hands to David’s upper arms. “Jesus,” Patrick murmurs against David’s lips, “you’re strong.”

David pulls back just a fraction of an inch. “Did you think I was . . . fragile?” he asks, and is pretty sure his face is doing something very expressive.

“No,” Patrick says, and he’s so earnest, it makes David want to throw him down and have his way with him right this fucking second. He pulls in an unsteady breath instead. “I just . . . you hide it.”

“You’ve touched me there before,” David says. They’re getting sidetracked, he tells himself. This is about Patrick. Make it good for Patrick.

“Not like this,” Patrick says, stepping back, and it’s David’s turn to watch as Patrick moves his hands to the button of his fly and pops it open.

“Fuck,” David says, nodding. “Yes, that.”

Patrick flushes, but he undoes the zipper and pushes his jeans down, steps out of them and kicks them away. His gaze is positively filthy, and he quirks one corner of his mouth into a smile as he wanders around the bed and peels back the duvet and top sheet. 

David’s jaw drops in a wholly undignified way as Patrick lies down and lets David look his fill. Patrick’s breathing is visibly unsteady, and he’s hard inside his gray boxer briefs. David has never wanted anyone this much in his life.

“Oh my god,” David says honestly.

Patrick smiles a little uncertainly. “Yeah?”

“Jesus fuck, you’re . . .” David fails to find the words. “Fuck,” he says definitively, and fumbles his way out of his own jeans before he crawls up the bed and pauses on all fours, leaning over Patrick who, somehow, does not reach out and touch him. “I could look at you all day.”

Patrick turns his face into a pillow a little, but he’s so pleased, David can see it in his smile. “Shut up,” he says, looking up again.

“No,” David says solemnly. “You are beautiful, and you’re gonna hear about it.” He uses a foot to nudge Patrick’s legs apart, and lowers himself so that he’s lying on top of him, straddling one of Patrick’s thighs. “I have never . . .”

Patrick leans up and to kiss him, and David meets him halfway, pulls him over onto his side and rocks his hips into Patrick’s. Patrick gasps, and David does it again, and then again, and again and again just to hear Patrick’s gasp quickly turn to a mumble, and then a whine, and then a moan. He starts to tremble, full on shaking in David’s arms, and everywhere they’re touching David feels hot and needy and desperate. 

“D- David,” Patrick manages, and David pulls up his self-control, stills his hips and his mouth and simply waits. It’s killing him just a little.

“Mmm?”

Patrick shakes his head, eyes closed, breathing fast. “This is going to be embarrassingly quick if you keep that up,” he says.

“Which would be the hottest fucking thing imaginable,” David replies.

Patricks blinks at him, opening his eyes, panting slightly. “It would?”

David nods fervently. “Oh my _god_ , yes,” he says, and his hips twitch despite his resolve.

“Oh, Jesus,” says Patrick fervently, and he pulls David toward him, kisses him again, wet and sloppy, and David rocks his hips into Patrick’s over and over. Patrick’s noisy – he gasps and moans and curses as he climbs closer and closer to coming, all of which are driving David wild, and when his orgasm hits he yelps, pushing his face into David’s shoulder as he shudders his way through it.

David swears gratuitously and bites his own lip to steady himself. “Oh god,” he whispers, gentling Patrick, murmuring reassurance. “That was so hot, you have no idea.” He rubs his hand up and down Patrick’s spine and feels him shake with aftershocks. “You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, kissing Patrick’s forehead, and Patrick whines feebly. He pulls Patrick with him as he rolls onto his back, tucking Patrick against his side. “I’m so lucky,” he murmurs. “So lucky.”

He keeps up the steady stream of gentle words until Patrick lifts his head. He looks wrecked – beautifully, fabulously, deliciously wrecked, and David has to reach down and grip the base of his dick through his underwear to slow everything down.

“Fuck,” says Patrick fervently.

That startles a laugh out of David. He has never laughed in bed with anyone. “Good?” he asks.

Patrick skims a hand down over David’s chest, over his belly, down to his dick and covers David’s hand with his own. “ _So_ good,” he breathes, and David flushes under his gaze. The look on Patrick’s face – it makes David squirm and mash his lips together in case something really vulnerable and needy slips out. He swallows hard, and nods at Patrick. “You should get out of those . . .” He gestures toward Patrick’s underwear. “. . . before things get gross.”

Patrick hums in agreement, and rolls away just long enough to kick them off. When he settles back at David’s side, he reaches up to touch David’s face, and David is dizzied and thrown off-kilter by how gentle he is. David blows out a breath and shakes his head a little, trying to marshal his thoughts. “You want to touch?” he asks Patrick, because that, _that_ would be fantastic. It’s hard to think, in his experience, when someone’s focused on blowing your mind.

Patrick’s gaze turns hungry. “Yes,” he says directly, and he skims his fingertips the length of David’s erection. “These,” he says very seriously as he plucks at the waistband of David’s boxer briefs, “are in my way.”

David tries to school his face into innocence. “What will we do?” he asks, biting back a smile.

Patrick pushes himself up and scoots down the bed until he can ease David’s underwear down over his dick and away. The way he looks at David when he’s thrown the boxer briefs aside is electric, and David’s dick twitches hopefully. “I wanna . . .” Patrick pauses, eyes locked with David’s. “I wanna do that – but not right now.”

“Anything,” David says and means it. “Anything you want.”

“But I do want to – I mean . . . if I can just . . .”

David growls, low and needy. “I swear to god if you don’t do _something_ . . .”

Patrick smiles a little and leans down, takes just the head of David’s dick into his mouth and sucks gently.

David is fucking transported. It’s ridiculous – it’s the tamest thing anyone’s done to his body in a long, long time, and yet it’s Patrick, and he’s never . . . “Oh, _fuck_ ,” David says appreciatively.

Patrick pulls off with a loud pop and David barely stops his eyes rolling back into his head. “Mmmm,” Patrick says, and then crawls back up the bed to kiss David, a filthy little twist of his tongue making David see stars. Patrick pulls back and licks his palm, wetting his hand thoroughly, before reaching back down and stroking David with an assurance David did not expect.

“Oh, fuck,” David says again, his expansive vocabulary shrinking by the second. He looks down his body to where Patrick’s working him with skillful twists of his hand, and Patrick’s skin is pale against him and warm and slick, and David thinks he can maybe ride this out for a while if he just tries really hard to make it last. But then Patrick leans down and licks at David’s nipple before he pulls it into his mouth and David’s hips buck up. “Oh god, oh god,” he moans, pushing himself into Patrick’s hand, and when Patrick does it again David swears and twists his body as he comes with a shout. He grabs for Patrick, flails a hand to grip his upper arm, and he can feel himself spilling everywhere.

Patrick slows his touch, eases David down as he lies beside him, nosing into his hair and pressing soft kisses to his temple. “That,” Patrick whispers. “Was amazing. Watching you . . .”

David’s dick twitches and he whimpers, turns his face toward Patrick so that Patrick’s next kiss glances clumsily off his nose before Patrick catches up and kisses his mouth. David’s dizzied and feels exposed and vulnerable, and heedless of the mess on Patrick’s hand and his body he turns himself to press shoulder to toe to Patrick. He almost wants to hide. This is a lot. This is almost too much. This is way more than he’d anticipated.

“Shhhh,” Patrick murmurs. “Stay here, okay?”

And David wants to protest, but he’s incapable of anything but halting little noises. He watches Patrick pad naked into the bathroom, come back with a damp washcloth, and he shivers as Patrick cleans him up. He reaches for Patrick the moment Patrick comes back to bed, whining petulantly when Patrick reaches down to pull the covers back over them both, and only relaxing when he’s jammed up against Patrick’s side.

“We gotta get up early,” Patrick says, pushing David’s hair back from his face. “Clean the sheets.”

“Your afterglow talk leaves a lot to be desired,” David says snippily, but Patrick just smiles at him and David’s completely undone by it. His eyes start to sting, and when Patrick kisses him, his heart does something complicated that sparks little shocks up and down his body that he doesn’t understand.

Patrick rubs a hand gently up and down David’s arm. “We could get up early for other reasons, too,” he says.

“You’re going to kill me,” David replies.

“Mmmmm. Maybe just shy of that,” Patrick says, and David watches him close his eyes, thinks, _shit. I love him_.

He presses in closer, doesn’t move away.


End file.
